The Call

A loud scree of a Red-tailed Hawk
fills the air. The sharp cry breaks
through a quiet afternoon

like an intonation of sacred bells
when we are summoned to be
alert. This scree soon dies down

to a softer remnant until only echoes
of it like an earworm of song remain.
Sounds awaken us—place us with our

feet on the ground, mind in the same
spot, a brief respite from busy thoughts,
it’s our North Star in finding peace.


This poem was published in the Methow Arts Alliance Quarterly Guide to the Arts in the Methow Valley for Winter 2017-18.

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